


Dawn

by canttaketheskyfromme



Series: What's in a Word? [4]
Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: 24-hour noodle shacks, Cheap ramen, F/M, Harsh neon signs, Probable Cause, RCPD, RCPD World Development, Raiko's inherently untrustworthy nature, Sex, Some exploration into Republic City law, Stakeouts, Steamed Satomobile windows, Sweat-slicked leather seats, The Force's new line of Satomobiles, Warrants, Wild silver hair, black coffee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-26 10:22:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14400156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canttaketheskyfromme/pseuds/canttaketheskyfromme
Summary: Working late one evening, Mako is tasked with joining Lin on a stakeout of a suspicious warehouse in Republic City's south side.





	Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> This work is intended to exist within the What's In A Word? universe.

Mako woke with a start.

His chin had been nodding against the soft cloth of his uniform, pen hanging lax from his limp, exhausted fingertips. The station around him was dark and predominantly empty and Mako lifted his other hand, rubbing the frustrating, imposing sleep from his eyes. How long had he been out?

His eyes wandered to the practical little clock on the wall, the one some rookie or another from the Civil Department adjusted weekly to keep them all on time. Usually, the light ticking of the mechanism's skinniest hand kept Mako in check, working towards some goal or another. But tonight it must have lulled him to sleep instead. He stretched, feeling a bone pop into place somewhere down in his back. He wasn’t usually this tired. But it had been a particularly difficult few weeks.

And, well, it wouldn't have been the first time in his life he'd fallen asleep to the noise. In fact, Mako kept a clean, neatly-coiled down bedroll in the bottommost drawer of his desk for occasions like these. It was just wide enough to fit in the little alcove beneath his desk. And although sleeping there wasn’t necessarily comfortable nor glamorous by any means, Mako had slept in many worse places than that. He glanced down at the drawer longingly, but it was still too early.

Mako let his gaze drift lazily around the station, sweeping over the few officers that still remained, aware somewhere far off in his mind that he hadn't managed to internalize the time. It didn't matter; he wouldn't be leaving his seat until he'd finished the night’s paperwork, anyway. At least he wasn’t alone in his what Bolin had deemed Mako’s _unholy matrimony_ to the job. There was a haggard-looking legal contractor in the corner, scouring through the officer's more questionable documents. Raiko had been cracking down on the Force’s laziness with paperwork especially hard as of late, now the city had been returned to some semblance of normalcy, convinced by either some particularly dark spirit or just pure, unadulterated Raiko-brand idiocy that the city’s ongoing problems were a result of the Force itself. The officer in the desk across the row from Mako's own had slumped on the surface, mouth slightly ajar as her snores pierced the still air. Mako grinned a little. In waking hours the girl was ferocious; a metalbending detective determined to earn her promotion before Mako did. She was all teasing threats and shoulder-shoving to be the first to volunteer for a dangerous assignment. Mako had reciprocated gladly, never one to turn down a challenge to determine whose life was the least healthy. They stayed at Headquarters later and later each passing night, silently daring the other to turn in first. Mako smirked as he watched a slender string of drool moisten the girl’s paperwork. He certainly wouldn’t let her forget about this one.

Mako stood, tugging up the dark wool peacoat he’d thrown over the back of his chair and approached the snoring girl, eyeing the engraved silver placard on her desk- Det. Ming, it boasted in neat, mechanised little characters- how fingers still clutched her metal pen in the usual vice like grip, the way her straight, shining black hair was mussed and strewn across the desk. She worked herself to the bone, too. And the rivalry, well. Sometimes it was the only thing that kept him going. He draped the soft, fitted wool over her skinny shoulders.

“If only the President could see us now.”

Mako jumped a little; despite the metal armor, Lin could still be remarkably quiet when she wanted to be. He turned, angling a grin at the woman, keeping his gaze trained just away from her piercing eyes.

“Why’s that, Chief?”

Lin stepped beside him- he tried not to jump at the electric sensation of her nearness, and pulled the jacket a little tighter around the girl, removing the pen from her hands. “For all that asshole’s accusations that we’re fucking up the city? Might be good for him to see a little humanity still goes on around here, too. Remind him we’re still just people and not the mindless robots I’m next to positive he’s been considering replacing us with.”

Mako threaded tired fingers through his hair, torn between feeling flattered and embarrassed. “Just ensuring she’s reminded that she fell asleep first, Chief.”

“I’m sure.” Lin’s voice was soft as they both gazed down at the detective, and something in Mako’s chest jumped at the tone. It was the same one she’d used those seven or so odd weeks ago. After she’d pulled him into the empty holding cells and bound his wrists to the wall and-

He swallowed as his stomach performed a variety of attempted acrobatics, tearing his eyes from the spot just beneath her collarbone that they’d been examining. Betraying things. But if Lin noticed the leap in his pulse through the floor, she didn’t comment. Rather she just brushed past him towards the little kitchenette residing in the corner and Mako, after taking a necessary calming breath, returned to the stiff-backed seat behind his desk. He heard her wash out the dregs from the overworked, strained little coffee machine that sat on the countertop and refill the reservoir with fresh water, switching it to _on._

Mako glanced down to the report he’d been filling out the whole night, determined to not allow his mind to wander some twenty odd feet behind him where Lin waited for the machine to heat. A large blotch of ink had marred the paper’s neat smooth surface. His pen must have slipped across the page as he’d slept. Damn. Mako glared at the stain, for a moment willing it to go away, before retrieving a blank file from the uppermost drawer of his desk and beginning anew.

As the room filled with the bitter lull of brewing coffee, Lin made her way around the room. Mako’s eyes unwillingly followed her, the light sway of her hips beneath the tight metal plate, the way her wild silver hair fell into her eyes as she bent over a desk on the room’s opposite end to consult with the legal adviser, pointing at something on the document in question. She looked pretty damned great in the armor, Mako thought, swallowing again and clenching the pen tighter in his hands.

Of course, she looked pretty damned great without it too, but that was another story. One he was careful only to replay in the solitude of his bedroom or his private apartment shower, the memory otherwise restrained by a great, forced metal block. Mako had once been more lenient with the memory of her bare hips and stomach, allowed it free reign as he’d relaxed in the hot, soothing waters of Headquarters’ communal showers, lost track of his inhibitions and let his hands and voice wander. But he’d been caught by her, been teased and bound to the cool, clean wall of their holding cells for his slip and sucked off until he’d come down her throat-

Her eyes were on him, the emerald glittering knowingly from across the darkened room and Mako glanced back down, too late, at the document beneath him.

And despite how incredible- how relieving and mind-burningly fantastic it had been, it had also been embarrassing. Embarrassing for her to _hear_ how much she influenced him on such a carnal level, the knowing look in her eye as she stooped in front of him, rendered him helpless to the talents of her lips and tongue and the wet heat of her mouth. It was embarrassing enough for Mako to not be able to look her in the eye for weeks, much less speak to her, _much_ less attempt to initiate some other sort of interaction. Lin didn’t seem to mind. She likely had other lovers, men or women who had the ability to actually meet her eyes and make a move rather than allow themselves to be dominated rather mercilessly, twice in a row now. Mako saw how other, older officers looked at her, the way their eyes also followed the swing of her hips as she went about her business in Headquarters. Not to mention the various politicians and press, the ones more desperate than was appropriate to schedule a private meeting with Republic City’s Chief of Police. And as much as Lin loudly berated the majority of them, they likely didn’t have an embarrassingly acute schoolkid-level crush on the woman. Not like the one Mako had.

Mako kept his eyes trained on the fresh document as Lin brushed past him again; the little coffee maker seemed to groan in relief as she switched it off. Mako concentrated on filling each box with neat little characters- a formal arrest report for an important detainee, one the Force had to file before daylight to fulfill Raiko’s newly implemented twenty-four hour documentation requirement.

This time, he heard the light tapping of her boots on the stone floor before a chipped but steaming mug of coffee was placed on his desk top. He took it gratefully, glancing up at her.

“Thanks.”

“You looked like you might need it,” she said in way of justification, sipping from her own and leaning against the corner of his desk. “Another long night?”

“I just have to finish this document. Then I’ll be turning in.”

“Her fingertips brushed the paper beneath him, fishing out the completed, marred form below. “You mean this one?”

Mako flushed beneath her knowing gaze. “It had a mark-”

Lin flipped the stapled cover page, eyes traveling expertly over the neat characters. “It seems to be in order.”

“But-”

“Your work is always terrific, Mako,” she cut across his objection. “But you waste my damned time redoing something that was perfectly good the first time around.”

Her tone was a little too knowing. Mako grinned despite himself, despite the frustration that he couldn’t seem to stop embarrassing himself around her. “Just don’t want to mar my reputation with you, Chief,” he said.

Lin blinked; she too must have been surprised by the honesty. She bent a little closer to him over the desk; it took all of Mako’s willpower not to move away. 

Or perhaps it was the willpower not to pull her closer. One of the two.

“Don’t worry about your reputation with me, Detective,” she said softly. “You’ve yet to disappoint.”

Mako felt a flush rise to his cheeks and grabbed the mug in front of him, gulping down the scalding coffee far more quickly than he’d have liked. But the burning warmth from the brew was nothing compared to the incendiary effect her words seemed to have on his stomach.

“Late night for you too, Chief?” He asked, gesturing to the coffee. It may have been presumptuous; Mako still wasn’t sure if she ever slept to begin with. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d left Headquarters before her. But the long nights Mako spent in Headquarters with the woman, even separated by the closed door, knowing that she too was likely working her ass off, working towards the same goal of keeping the city safe and busting criminals- they were still some of his favorite times. Mako knew his fellow officers felt the same way. The Chief’s ruthless nature and dedication was inspiring. She was the reason they had to force tenured officers to finally retire; the cause behind the sudden influx of rookies that season.

Lin just glanced up at the little clock sitting high on the wall. “It’s almost my shift.”

“Warehouse duty?”

Her eyes found his, amused. “Correct. The luxuries of being on the Republic City Police Force never cease.”

Mako grinned into the cup. There had been one warehouse on the Force’s radar as of late- one owned by Hing Wa, a tremendously wealthy businessman who’d made his mountains of yuans buying and upselling Republic City real estate. And, the Force suspected, from also running a nauseatingly successful drug trade from his various, skeevier properties. 

“And if I were to argue that it’s more luxurious to just bust down the building’s door rather than assigning officers to sit outside it at all hours of the day waiting for something suspicious to happen?”

Her mouth- Mako swore, it almost turned upward as she evaluated him. “Probable cause, Detective. I’m not about to open us up to a lawsuit from the second wealthiest man in the city, even if we suspect his influence _is_ impeding the speed of the warrant we requested to search the building. We raid the warehouse without one, you and I and the rest of my officers are out of a job. We happen to catch something illegal or reasonably suspicious happening on the building’s property? We can do all the raiding we want and remain protected by the law so that our President doesn’t have a damned heart attack.”

“And if we want that, too?”

Lin smirked, reaching over to comb at Mako’s cowlick, the untidy bit of hair near the crown of his head that never quite fell flat. He felt goosebumps travel across the flesh of his neck but leaned into the brief touch, anyway. “You learn quickly, Detective.” She plucked the empty mug from Mako’s fingertips, evaluating him again with her sharp emerald eyes. “Care to join me?” She asked, lowering her voice. “Seeing as you’ve just been recaffeinated.”

“Warehouse duty with our stick-in-the-mud Chief? Does the glamor of being a cop never cease?”

“Watch it, Kid.” She sounded amused.

Mako just grinned.

Lin ditched the empty mugs in the kitchenette sink while Mako plucked his peacoat from Ming’s shoulders and replaced it with his quickly unrolled sleeping pad, tucking the sides of the soft material neatly around the girl. She likely wouldn’t wake until morning. She hadn’t even removed her armor. Mako pressed some of the material around her head in some sort of makeshift pillow and glanced up; Lin’s gaze was on him again as she slid on a pair of black leather gloves, watching his progress, her face lined in a particularly inscrutable expression. Mako shrugged at her, grinning, and followed her to the doorway.

She hesitated beneath the clock, one hand on the practical bronze knob. “Positive I’m not keeping you from other work or sleep, Detective?” She asked a little quietly. “If there’s something better you could do- like you said, it’s not very glamorous.”

Mako’s eyes were on the way the dimmed station lights shone off her wild hair. “I wouldn’t miss keeping you company for the world, Chief.”

She just nodded. Together, they exited the primary room and set off down the hallway to the Headquarters garage, exchanging some brief conversation with one of the rookies on night duty on their way past the main entrance.

The garage was still rather full and Lin selected a particularly incognito Satomobile- a large gray van, from one of the Force’s newest orders from Future Industries, and Mako climbed into the passenger seat, stretching out his legs gratefully and feeling at the soft leather seat. Asami had done wonderfully in ensuring that Future Industries took particular care in developing the Force’s line of undercover Satomobiles. The partnership was one Mako had helped to negotiate himself; one of his prouder accomplishments from the last few months. Since Kuvira’s attacks he’d gone just short of driving himself crazy, back in Headquarters and in his role of Detective with a half-healed arm, and had called on Asami and Korra at the estate late one night when he could no longer stand to sit at his desk and sort through old paperwork and watch as Lin’s duties took her back and forth in front of him multiple times per day. Asami had invited him in and they’d stretched out on the floor of her study, Asami’s head in Korra’s lap and Mako’s against Asami’s thigh, and brainstormed ways he could still benefit the Force in his handicapped state. Apparently, new street vehicles were much-needed after Kuvira’s forces had ruined many of the previous ones. And the implementation gave Mako the chance to spend more time with his friends- and a greater allotment of his time with Lin, as well.

Lin drove them from the lot and down Seventh Avenue and Mako stayed silent, enjoying the vibrant neon city lights that flashed by as they traveled south towards the city’s poorer, industrial neighborhoods. She was a tremendous driver, he observed, watching her deft, gloved fingers navigate the wheel and clutch. He inhaled heavily. The Satomobile still smelled new, save for a cigarette or two that had been smoked inside the vehicle, and was supplemented by a mild, lavender undertone that Mako had come to associate with Lin’s hair. He’d had enough experience with it to know, from the few times he’d pushed his face against the soft skin of her neck. The memory was etched in his mind, erotic and intoxicating. He took another deep breath.

“You know Detective, this is the calmest I’ve ever felt you,” she commented.

“Oh?” He asked, feeling a flush light his cheeks, grateful for the obscurity of the dark Satomobile.

She nodded. “You’re always far more high-strung at the station.”

“Just take after the best, Chief,” he reminded her.

To his surprise, she snorted a laugh as the vehicle turned a corner and the warehouse came into view. It was a large, hulking, rusty building with windows high along the top of the walls to let in the sun, and discourage unwelcome interest from passers-by. According to the other officers, sometimes at night the flickering glow of a light could be seen from inside. But so far, they hadn’t caught anything to grant probable cause enough for a warrantless search.

“It’s a hard job, Detective. You’re right to feel the strain. You’re right to recognize that the rest of us do, too,” Lin consoled, powering down the engine in an almost empty lot set diagonally from the building, motioning to the other incognito Force vehicle which took off from the shift with a flickering of headlights and a puff of dark exhaust. The Force had gotten better at communication after Kuvira’s attacks too, running like a well-oiled machine. Not that Raiko gave a shit about _that,_ either. Lin pushed her seat back from the wheel, stretching out her legs as well. “That’s why for the sake of your mental health, you need to supplement the more anxiety-inducing activities with something like this. Something quiet. Forced relaxation.”

“Is that why you’re on duty tonight, Chief?”

Her voice hardened. “It’s been a particularly difficult few weeks." 

“Any way I can help with that?” Mako asked a little too quickly before he became aware of the insinuation- and then decided not to correct himself. At least he was being honest with her now, touching on the subject of what had been happening between the two of them. As much as it made his stomach roll and hands chill with nerves.

“Don’t feel like you have to.”

He turned to her, unable to make out much more beyond a flash of silver in her hair. “And if I want to, anyway?”

The leather seat creaked as she shifted her weight and suddenly her fingers were on his chin, pushing against the rough grain of the stubble from the last several days of being far too swamped by work to shave. Mako closed his eyes, enjoying the cool touch of her skin against his. Too soon, she removed her hand.

They fell silent and Mako tried his best to keep his gaze on the warehouse, evaluating Lin every so often, glancing between the surprisingly artistic graffiti on the building’s brick siding and the way the crescent moon’s meager light shone a stripe down the plate covering Lin’s stomach. He balled his hand into a fist to stop himself from tracing the line with the tips of his fingers.

Twenty minutes or so passed in silence as Mako and Lin sat in the dark of the concealed van. Mako was struck by the comfortable nature of the silence; they’d shared awkward pauses too, when they were just getting to know one another all those years ago. This was different.

But so many things had changed since then. It was Lin, her encouragement that he join the Force in the first place, that had given Mako his first sense of purpose beyond ensuring he and Bolin didn’t starve on the streets. The opportunity to become something greater than a streetrat who’d been shoved to the ground of grimy alleyways and away from food carts for as long as he could remember, the opportunity to become greater than a glorified athlete confined to the strict ring and rules of the Pro Bending world. It was Lin who pushed him to outperform each of the other officers, to outperform _himself_ when he got the chance. And it was her who made his stomach leap with her proximity, his heart hammer loudly in his ribcage at any touch. He’d adored her for a while now, he thought. And she likely had next to no idea just how impactful she’d been on his life. But the fact that she seeked out this time with him, the insane idea that she found him to be a satisfactory worker and decent company and perhaps even attractive as well- it was more rewarding than anything else. 

“And your life?” She asked suddenly, some time later. Mako started. “How’s the Avatar?”

“Korra’s doing alright.”

“Her girlfriend?”

“Still recovering. Better each day.”

“And you- how are you adjusting to that?”

Mako flushed again. Nobody had asked him, before that moment, how he was doing with the progression of Korra and Asami’s relationship. The only ways it had been brought up to him had been teasingly, across a lowly lit bar as the girls kissed across the countertop, or as he and Bolin opted to sleep in a secondary wing in the estate so they could have some privacy. And as much as he appreciated the concern- as _warm_ as it made his chest to know that Lin of all people was intuitive enough to ask- he felt nothing but joy for the girls.

“My, uh- my attention’s been focused elsewhere,” he admitted, angling his gaze toward the darkened windows of the warehouse, not really bothering to focus his eyes, ignoring the pounding of his heart. Part of him hoped she wouldn’t pry, wouldn’t force him to say it- another, the more reckless part that must come from his Firebending, wanted her to.

“The detective?” She probed. “The one you’re always competing with?” Her voice had quieted, something soft lurked beneath the usually commanding tone.

Mako leaned closer to her and the leather beneath her plate creaked as she shifted, too. His fingertips found the loose practical cloth covering her thigh, and a thrill passed through the tendons of his hands, almost reminiscent of the lightning that had crippled them for so many weeks.

“No, Lin,” he forced out, determined. “Not- not that detective.”

He was closer to her face now, could see the corner of her mouth pulled up in a minute smirk.

“That’s what I was hoping you’d say,” she breathed, edging her fingers up Mako’s and ghosting them along his knuckles, catching at his sleeve. Mako swallowed at the contact, daring to shift even closer to her-

But she just pulled his wrist towards her face, pushing up the starched cloth sleeve of his uniform to glance at the little golden wrist watch he wore. Mako gathered his deteriorating composure and summoned a small flame to the tip of his finger to assist.

“The new shift will be arriving soon,” she commented smoothly, and Mako was met with a more pronounced smirk on her face. His stomach leapt, he was acutely aware that his fingers were trembling- much like they always did when she touched him. _Get a grip,_ Mako pleaded with himself. He’d been _inside_ of her, spirits damn it- been inside of her twice now, felt down her naked body, seen each part of her usually covered by the gleaming plate- but still, the visceral reaction was no different than the very first time her fingers had skimmed the muscle of his upper arm after a day in training, all those months ago. He’d been shocked by the touch, spent the whole evening convincing himself it couldn’t have meant anything, that it made no iota of sense for the woman to have any interest in him. And then the touches, the teasing, had continued. And Mako, well. He was almost positive he’d died that day inside the belly of Kuvira’s machine and gone to the afterlife.

A blinding blaze of light announced the next shift’s arrival and Lin sent a grin in Mako’s direction once again, flicking the latch to unlock the door and stepping out, hailing the vehicle. Mako watched as the driver, a Lieutenant on the Force with an impressive, bristly mustache cranked down the window and Lin leaned closer to chat with him. When she retreated to the driver’s side van he caught the Lieutenant’s eye and nodded respectfully, receiving one in return.

The van’s motor revved to life and Lin snapped her seatbelt neatly across her lap. “Dinner, Detective?” She asked, glancing at the still-exposed face of Mako’s watch. “Or rather, an early breakfast?”

“That sounds nice.”

“I know.” There was amusement in the loose lines on her face, much more visible with the assistance of the van’s headlights. “Your stomach has been making rather noticeable attempts at communication all night.”

She turned the Satomobile northward again, following the same path through the city that they’d taken previously. The lights had dimmed somewhat, a few straggling clubgoers making their weary and slightly intoxicated way home. A benefit of living in Republic City, Mako had learned- well, one of the many- was that it never really slept. A package delivery truck passed them in the adjacent lane. Meager lights still shone from the residential spaces above storefronts. Mako thought to check the time on his watch too but decided against it; the chance to stay out later with Lin was worth another sleepless night, as far as he was concerned.

Lin drove them to a little twenty-four hour noodle shack, not unlike those Mako and Bolin had frequented many years back, before Bolin’s stint in the Movers and his friendship with Varrick and the subsequent development of a much more unique set of tastes. And Mako very much enjoyed going out with Bolin to indulge in higher-class, more experimental cuisine. But something about him missed the cheap little noodle shops too.

The shop was brightly lit and almost vacant and, upon a questioning look from Lin, Mako selected a table beside the wall. Lin settled in the seat across from Mako’s, folding her trench to rest behind the stiff back of the chair while Mako shrugged out of his peacoat. He watched as she plucked at the fingers of her gloves, stowing them within a deep pocket.

They were approached by a haggard-looking young waiter who stumbled and fell over his words, eyes drawn to the badge set on Lin’s chest and the skinny scars across her cheek and Mako bit his lip to keep from grinning; he’d been so focused as of late on how much she terrified him that he’d forgotten that the occurrence was more common than not with the city’s citizens. He ordered a simple ramen; to his surprise, she copied him.

“Problem?” She asked once the waiter had disappeared into the shop’s rear.

“I expected you to have more refined tastes, I guess.”

A corner of her mouth turned up at him, adjusting her position against the stiff chair, and her knee nudged his beneath the table. Mako moved his leg away, stomach leaping at the touch. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned, Detective, it’s that the best cuisine in this city can be found at four in the morning.”

Was it that late, already? “So this date _wasn’t_ as spontaneous as it seems,” Mako said, the words sliding out of him before he realized it.

But she just grinned a little wider as she leaned closer to him over the little table. “Consider yourself lucky. I’m not usually one to wine and dine.”

“I forgot, you’d rather pick up your dates in the communal showers and take them on a romantic outing to the holding cells-”

She hit him with her napkin. Mako looked away from her and across the bright shop, trying to ignore the heat that had risen to his face, chancing a glance back in Lin’s direction to find she’d colored a little herself. He slid a foot forward, resting his knee just on the inside of her own. She didn’t pull away.

The ramen was served piping hot and Mako wasted no time in gulping it down- he hadn’t realized until then how hungry he was, how he hadn’t really had much of a meal all day. There was always the odd pastry or bagel available at the Force kitchenette, but in terms of the last hot meal- Mako couldn’t really remember the last time he’d had the luxury.

He tipped the bowl back against his lips, catching her eye over the ceramic rim. “You eat like an officer,” she observed, fishing a long noodle from her own, fuller bowl and swirling it onto a spoon, bringing it up to her lips. “Subsisting on pastries for days and suddenly, everything at once.”

“I hadn’t realized officers ate a certain way.”

“It’s unhealthy. Much like everything else in our lives.”

Mako grinned. “I guess that’s right. Job’s great, though.”

“You enjoy it?” She actually sounded surprised.

“More than anything, Chief." 

There was a small smile on her face as she motioned over the waiter for the check.

It was still dark when they exited the restaurant and Mako hesitated at the stoop, checking the nearby streets.

“I’m close to home,” he said, a little disappointed. “I could walk.”

“Where do you live?”

“Seventy-second and Hei Bai.”

“Just along the route to my place,” she said, turning toward the almost empty lot and the little gray van. “I’m going to need a few hours’ rest as well. I’ll drop you off.”

Mako didn’t argue; she’d slid open the van’s back doorway and bent off her armor, depositing it within the depths. Mako’s gaze fell on where the soft, sleeveless top she wore beneath it had ridden up against the muscle of her back. She caught his eye, smirking as she fixed the material.

They reentered the van and Mako flipped on the radio as she pulled from the lot, scrolling through stations until they reached one playing some smoother music with brassy instruments and a steady, slow rhythm. 

“Fire Nation music?” She asked. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“I’ve never been there,” he said, eyeing the way her hair fell above the nape of her neck, breathing in its smell once again. “But I’d like to.” He reached out, threading his fingers through the loose silver strands, admiring how they fell back in place immediately once they left the constraints of his knuckles.

“Any particular reason?” Her voice sounded tight.

Mako shrugged, although he wasn’t sure she noticed. “To learn- more. About myself, I guess.”

She leaned back into his touch. Mako sent warmth to the tips of his fingers, touching through the thick curls behind her head, making brief contact with the soft skin of her neck and shoulders. She let out a ragged breath.

“Do you have family there?”

“No,” Mako breathed. “Or, maybe I do. I don’t know. I wouldn’t be doing it for them. It would just be for me.”

The van jolted to a stop and Mako looked through the window, away from her- they’d come to a stop in a darkened alleyway. Deep red brick patterned the wall on one side. To the other was some older, chipped graffiti.

“This isn’t my building.”

“Perceptive of you.” She flipped off the ignition. “Thank the spirits we hired you to be a detective.”

Mako opened his mouth, but before he could ask just what she was thinking she’d unlatched her seatbelt and tossed her legs over the gear shift, straddling him on the soft leather seat and pulling his mouth up to hers. Mako expelled an embarrassingly loud, surprised breath into the wet heat of her mouth, grabbing roughly at her waist and pulling her more securely against him.

“Why do you always,” she breathed against his lips, “have to be so damned endearing all the time?”

Mako grinned against her lips, tangling his other hand securely in her wild hair, trying to concentrate on breathing, on not passing out beneath her. “That’s on you for rewarding my bad behavior.”

She pushed her tongue deep into his mouth and fumbled with the buttons of his uniform, pulling up the soft undershirt beneath, bunching it beneath his armpits. Mako shivered as her fingers passed over his nipples and felt at the muscles at his stomach and wasted no time in yanking up her own. The tightness in his pants was already nearing unbearable- yet he felt his cock throb when her breasts were exposed to the air, her own, darkened nipples already stiffened against the creamy skin. And spirits, her skin was so soft- softer than he remembered, and he dragged his fingertips down her muscled back, surprised to feel a thin layer of goosebumps.

Mako grabbed at the muscled curve of her ass. “You’re letting me- you’re actually letting me use my hands this time.”

She snickered in his ear. “Don’t make me regret it.”

Mako pulled her hips harder against his own and she released another, stuttering breath into Mako’s mouth. He swallowed it hungrily. She tasted like the spiced, brothy ramen; like the bitter coffee from earlier on that night. He’d never before thought the tastes could be so erotic. But he’d also never before experienced them on Lin’s tongue. “Wouldn’t dream of disappointing you, Chief.”

She bit his bottom lip hard, tugging his chin higher towards the Satomobile’s roof. “Prove it.”

Mako didn’t need to be asked twice. He steeled himself for a moment before pushing his hands past the elastic band of her pants, tugging past the soft underpants beneath.

Her body jerked hard above him when his fingers came to rest between her legs, probing at the soft folds of skin and the slickness he already found there. She rolled her hips forward and Mako slipped a digit within her, and then a second. He curled his fingers; her low moan, one he’d been hoping to hear again for months, sounded in his ear.

Lin’s hands grabbed at his undershirt, his waist, mussing his styled hair as she took it in a tight fist. “Spirits,” she breathed. Her voice cracked in his ear. “That feels-" 

“Yes?” Mako asked, repeating the motion, and then again, more roughly. She sagged against him, forehead on his shoulder, breathing hard, and he felt a flush of pride. After their last interactions, after how she’d bound him to her desk and the cool wall of the holding cell and turned him to little more than putty in her capable hands- well, it was nothing short of empowering to know that he too could influence the usually stoic woman like that. Her hands were shaking from their perch in his hair, breaths blasting against his neck in hot puffs. He’d never experienced her so vulnerable, before.

Mako wondered what else he could do to break down her walls.

He moved a thumb upwards through her lower lips and pressed on her clit and she jumped, again, from her spot above him. “Teach me.”

Her voice was shaking. “You’re doing just fine on your own.”

“ _Just fine_ isn’t good enough.”

She breathed a laugh against him. “Are you never satisfied with the work you do, Mako?" 

“High standards.” It was his turn to smirk at her. She swatted his ear, halfheartedly. “ _Teach_ me, Lin.”

Her voice was barely a whisper. “I suppose- _warmer_." 

“What?” Mako slowed the ministrations and she moaned in frustration, catching his eye. Even in the van’s low light, Mako could see the deep, embarrassed flush that had bloomed high on her cheekbones, the way her pupils had blown. He knew what she was asking for- but while he had some semblance of power over her- he wanted to hear her _say_ it.

She yanked harder on his hair. “Just heat your damned- Spirits, Mako, are you a Firebender or not?” 

He snickered in her ear, heating the tips of his fingers and pressing them deep inside of her. Her moan was louder in his ear again and his fingers became especially slick and Mako’s stomach leapt into his throat.

He wrapped his other arm around her waist and pulled her close, penetrating her more roughly. He sent even more heat to his fingers; a strangled cry ripped from her throat.

He withdrew his hand. “Too warm?" 

“No.” She just clutched onto him tighter. This time, when Mako replaced his fingers, he was met with a louder, breathy moan. She was rolling her hips against his wrist, stray hairs sticking to her sweat-slicked neck and cheeks. Mako fixed his gaze on her face. She was falling to pieces around him, and he was determined to remember every moment of it.

“Mako,” she whispered, and her voice was low, desperate. “Don’t-" 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Chief.” He focused on rubbing tight circles against her clit with his thumb.

She groaned loudly in his ear, muscles tightening around Mako’s fingers and he pulled her harder against him as she rode out her orgasm, revelling in the shaking of her hands and the way her lips formed an ambiguous string of curses and praise. And when she finally pulled away from her spot against his chest, her expression alight with the pleasure and mouth slightly ajar, Mako wiped a few stray hairs that had been caught on her sweaty neck and kissed her flushed, bitten lips, pulling his other hand from her pants and wiping his fingers on his uniform.

That expression on her face- in that moment, he felt as if he could do just about anything.

“You know,” she breathed, fingers already working on the button at the front of his pants, “You _can_ call me by my first name when we’re doing this.”

Mako wanted to tell her he’d consider it. He wanted to tell her that he felt nothing but comfortable using her first name- that the level of familiarity didn’t make his fingers chill and stomach flip. He wanted to tell her that he wasn’t afraid, not at all, that thinking of her as something other than _Chief_ would release the carefully restrained feelings he had for her- the ones he’d been acutely aware of for a while, now. But instead he lifted his hips to allow her to work the bottoms of his uniform from his trembling hips and bit his tongue.

With some shifting, Lin slid a leg from her loose, practical pants and repositioned herself to sit astride him, one knee set in the soft, cushioned leather on either side of Mako’s hips. He sucked in a breath as her fingertips brushed the shaft of his cock, trailing up his abdomen and finding purchase around his neck. Mako bent his head to kiss at the soft interior of her wrist, sending a heated breath against the tendons. Her grip tightened.

“Do you want this, Mako?” She breathed, a smirk lingering on her lips as she pressed her center against his cock.

And maybe, far off in a more rational part of his mind, Mako was aware that he was quickly losing the power here, as a guttural moan tore itself from his throat and he canted his hips against the moist warmth between her legs. He gripped her hard around her waist, desperate for contact, pressing her hips lower into his.

The muscle in her thighs strained for a moment, squeezing him, and she remained a torturous distance away. “Well?” She prompted, and Mako felt as if he were going to be driven mad by the patient, teasing lilt on the words.

“I’ll take you in every way you’re willing to give, Lin,” he gasped. Well, at least it was honest.

The muscle of her thighs relaxed and Mako was finally, finally able to pull her hips flush with his, squeezing the skin with his fingers and moaning loudly as he entered her, feeling the soft walls stretch around his cock until he was sheathed inside her. Mako concentrated on breathing, acquainting himself once again to the feeling of her body around his, to the sensation of Lin’s comfortable weight and the stickiness of his fingers and the mild yet intoxicating smell of her shampoo. 

And when she began to move, shifting her weight ever so slightly and rolling her hips, he wrapped his arms tight around her middle and held her close. 

At some point, Mako supposed he noticed that the van’s windows had fogged up, trails of condensation running down the cool glass. At some point, he supposed he thought on a whim to thank Asami for crafting such high-quality furnished leather seats as beads of sweat trailed down the material where it came in contact with his back. But they were all unimportant things, really; almost everything was, in contrast to the taste of the salty skin of her neck and the feeling of her hips and ass in his desperate fingertips as he guided her speed as she rode him, the way her hands clutched at his hair and shoulders and the muscle of his arm.

Mako pulled Lin tighter, burying his face against the soft curve of her breasts. “You’re wonderful,” he breathed, kissing at her sternum, gasping through the throb of pleasure that wracked through his body as she quickened her pace. “Spirits, Chief, you’re _wonderful.”_

He felt her lips briefly come into contact with the top of his head before she removed his hand from where it had been gripping into her back, guiding it between her legs once again. Mako touched at her gladly, heating his fingers and pressing them against her clit in time to the movement of her hips.

She arched her back and dug her fingers into his shoulder and it was too much, the sensation of her breasts against him and the sharp jolts of pain from her trimmed nails and Mako moaned something disjointed. 

“What was that?” She asked, slowing the pace.

“I’m going to come, Lin,” he moaned against her breast, sagging forward to feel each part of her skin against his own.

She took his chin between two fingers and tilted his jaw to her own, kissing him and working his mouth open while Mako heated his fingers even more, breathing hot hair against her lips and into her mouth.

“Warmer,” she requested again, and Mako forgot to breathe at the desperate edge to her voice.

He obliged, heating his hands even more and trailing one up her back while the other worked at rubbing succinct circles over her clit. She jerked above him, gasping.

“More- _please,_ ” she whispered. And Mako gripped at her more tightly as he followed the orders.

She was much louder this time as she came around him, releasing a deep, strangled cry and pressing her body hard against his. And the way she’d fallen apart in front of him, the sudden slickness against his cock, was all he needed for his own composure to shatter.

Mako readjusted his grip on her hips and pressed her onto his cock roughly, repeatedly, pushing into the skin hard enough to bruise, but she didn’t seem to mind. Instead Lin baited his tongue into her mouth and it was then that Mako was finally able to release, letting out a long, drawn-out moan as he pushed into her one last time and shuddered as he spilled into her.

They remained like that for a few minutes more; Mako became acutely aware of the clouded Saromobile windows and the harsh tang of sex and sweat that lingered in the vehicle and the way their skin was sticking together, and had just decided it was nice when she pulled away from him, returning to the driver’s side of the vehicle and cranking down a window. Mako shivered under the blast of cool city air.

“That was-“

“Yeah,” she agreed, pulling her pants back over the bare leg and smoothing down her top while he did the same. There was a soft smile on her lips. “It was.”

She flipped on the ignition while Mako shrugged out of the exterior layer of his cloth uniform; it was wrinkled and stained with sweat and he wiped down the moisture that had collected on the glass. It would need a wash, anyway.

Mako had seen many dawns from within the city, from a spot on a cold, hard alleyway huddled beside Bolin or from the modest little windows in their apartment above the Pro Bending gymnasium. Perhaps there was something about being a Firebender that made the rising sun so appealing- of course, Mako could feel the way the sun’s presence and light ignited his belly and warmed him all the way out to the tips of his fingers. But there was something beyond the carnal attraction to his element that day; the lilac color of the previously navy sky, the way tiny particles of light refracted from the skyscraper windows as Lin drove him the meager few blocks back to his apartment, were especially breathtaking.

And the way the light found the wild, mussed gray strands of her hair and turned them a shocking silver was incomparable to much else, too.

The Satomobile came to a stop outside the familiar stoop; Mako rented the top story of a four-tier brownstone, and even the shabby building’s deteriorating red brick looked good in the early morning light.

He turned to Lin; her eyes were averted from his, focused somewhere far away down the road, as her fingers fiddled with the wrapped leather steering wheel.

“I was skeptical at first,” he grinned. “But as far as dates go, that one actually wasn’t too bad.”

A corner of her mouth lifted in a grin and her sharp eyes finally found his own.

“Get the hell out of my van already." 

“Gladly,” he said. “Just after I do one more thing.” 

And he unlatched the seat belt, leaning over the gear shift and catching her soft, full lips with his again. She returned the gesture immediately, snaking a hand up to the back of his neck and holding him steady against her. 

“Let’s do this again,” he breathed, hoping he didn’t sound as desperate as he felt.

“We’ll see.”

“That’s what you said last time.”

 “Then I suppose you have your answer." 

Mako remained on the stoop for a few moments longer than he should have after exiting the van, watching it drive down the block until it disappeared down seventy-third, fishing his keys from the pocket of his heavy pea coat and watching the way the sky was lighting to a soft pink.


End file.
